


Hunting with Forks and Hope

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Universe, M/M, background Gladioulus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: Ignis and Gladio run the Scientia Bakery; Noctis and Prompto walk in the door...





	Hunting with Forks and Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this prompt: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3451.html?thread=4266875#cmt4266875

The kid who talked a lot was back, and Ignis wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd come into the bakery last week with a friend, chatted at Ignis and Gladio as if _they_ were his friends, and left with two large boxes of cakes – the biggest sale of the day, if not the week. Ignis had been confused, which he hated, but he reminded himself that it was Gladio's job to work the front and weed out the weirdos. Ignis preferred to stay in the kitchen, in the back.

Except now the kid was here again, entering the shop with a cheery _Yo, dude_.

"Yo," Gladio repeated flatly. "Thought we got rid of you."

"Try harder." Ignis heard a smile in his voice. "This is the best cake shop in Insomnia, you know that, right? Heck, whatever magic you use here got Noct to wolf down _carrot_ cake, which is why he's not here. Existential crisis. If vegetables are evil, how can veggie cake be _so good_?"

"I gotta ask," Gladio said, sounding disinterested – which he was; Ignis was the one who'd been curious. "Is your buddy _the_ Noctis?"

The name had been so popular for a few years after the birth of the Prime Minister's son that there'd been at least one Noctis in every class at school, but their customer last week had had a kind of quiet charismatic pull, and a voice that sounded familiar from glimpses on TV and radio.

The kid snorted. "There was this one time he introduced himself to this darling little old lady at a party, and she was like, _Noctis? Why, that's what my dog's called_ , and she showed him all these pictures of her chihuahua. I mean... I guess it's an honor. I was named after instant noodles, myself."

There was a tactless pause, where Ignis imagined Gladio making some kind of face, amused or mocking he wasn't sure.

"Ichiban?" Gladio guessed. He must have got it wrong, because he tried again. "Nissin? Best Value?"

"Nope."

"Mister Prompto," Ignis said through the open connecting doors, not even making a question of it. " _Not just a prompt meal, a full Prompto dinner!_ " The kid's answer was a surprised laugh.

"Fuck," Gladio said, and cracked his neck. "Those were the best, with the flavor packets and shit. How come they they quit making them?"

Ignis braced himself. Most questions like that could be answered in two words: the war. But Mister Prompto the customer shuffled on his feet and said, like he was embarrassed he knew this, "The owner went vegan and founded a chocobo refuge."

"Vegans." Gladio spat the word out in disgust. "Now that you ruined my day, order or get the fuck out."

Prompto walked out with another two full boxes.

Gladio wondered out loud what he did with the cake – "He's too short and scrawny to be eating them all himself" – and Ignis let himself be impressed by how neatly Prompto had evaded the question of Noctis' identity.

*

Ignis was just starting to mark the remainders half-off for the end of the day when the bells over the door rattled and he heard two customers come in. He opened his mouth to welcome them, and got blindsided by a chipper _Yo_.

He refused on principle to return the greeting in kind. "Good evening."

"I told you they'd still be open," Prompto said in an over-loud whisper to (Ignis assumed) Noctis.

They hadn't been by in nearly a month. Ignis still tried to follow the news, though he preferred the flexibility and depth of newspapers to the spoon-feeding of radio. Former Prime Minister Caelum had been on a diplomatic mission to Niflheim, hammering out more details for its transition from occupation to modern parliamentary democracy. His only son – _that_ Noctis – hadn't followed his father into politics, but he was often a part of his entourage. And where Noctis went, assuming this was the _same_ Noctis, Prompto did seem to follow.

Ignis missed the traveling he'd done when he was younger, out searching for new recipes with his uncle, and he felt a strange envy of people who could move so easily in elite circles. But the war had happened, and he'd been fortunate to have his uncle let him continue on as apprentice after he lost his sight – doubly fortunate to have been given the shop after his retirement. And living in Insomnia was exciting enough. Who knew what famous person might walk through the Scientia bakery door?

Gladio was breaking down the coffee machine – even after all these years of friendship he refused to teach Ignis the secret technique – so Ignis swallowed down a sigh and asked if he could take their order.

"I've been _dreaming_ about this," Prompto announced. (A bored-sounding voice from behind him added, "He has. And never shut up until he made me hungry, too.") "That one is definitely my favorite, can I get two to go? And Noct wants one of those."

This was why Ignis preferred to stay in the back.

Someone must have pointed out to Prompto that Ignis had no fucking clue, because he cut himself off with a _sorry_ and started from the top. "One of the orange cake, two of the banana cream, as many of the meat pies as you've got left – there's five here, are you hiding any in the back?"

"No," Ignis said. He shouldn't be so short with customers; maybe he'd been around Gladio too long, but he couldn't force himself make an effort to be nice. "Is that all?"

"Two of the kupoberry cheesecake, and two memory lane tarts."

"They're not as good as the ones from Tenebrae," Noctis said, low enough that he probably didn't expect to be overheard. Ignis _did_ hear, though, and bristled. He and his uncle had done their best to recreate the recipe; he'd thought they were close enough to authentic.

There was a faint scuffle, hand striking fabric, and Noctis muttered _ow_.

"Serves you right," Prompo said. "I can't take you anywhere. That's all," he added. "What does that come to?"

After they paid, Gladio saw them out and started bringing the sidewalk cafe tables in for the night. Ignis hung the _half-price sale_ sign on the door.

"Are they dating?" Ignis asked. "They sound very..." He gestured. "Close."

"Maybe," Gladio said.

Ignis nodded; he'd figure out why Gladio sounded pissed off later. "And he is Noctis Caelum, correct?" He hated not knowing things that were obvious to anyone with working vision. He hated having to ask, too, but at least Gladio was never a dick about answering.

"That or a body double. Hair like a chocobo's tuft, maybe would come up to my chin if he stopped slouching. Either looks tired or sulky. Don't get what's so great about him."

"Got a crush, there?" Ignis asked, smirking, and was so surprised to be _right_ that he just barely sidestepped the embarrassed punch Gladio threw at him. 

*

It turned out that Noctis and Prompto were trying to help a group of war-displaced street kids living in a bombed-out factory down by the railway tracks, hence the boxes and boxes of cake. Ignis thought this was admirable, if not especially nutritious, and started adding a few freebies to each order; Gladio sneered and said they were slapping a band-aid on a hemorrhage, and like it or not Noctis had political power he could leverage, if he had the guts to stop lazing around.

Ignis resigned himself to losing not only two good customers but also incipient friends to Gladio's sense of social justice, but for some reason Noctis kept coming back to be nagged, harassed, and bothered. Even, sometimes, bringing up legislation and party platforms himself, and floating ideas for an NGO. Their dynamic was fascinating to watch... from a safe distance.

Prompto tended to sidle away from the ongoing arguments if he could. Tonight he was hanging out in the kitchen, chatting with Ignis and offering help cleaning up that got politely turned down, like always. Ignis liked to know where everything was, and explaining would take more time in the end.

"Hey," he said, shifting foot to foot; he was having a particularly restless day. "You mind if I take some pictures?"

Ignis shrugged, not bothering to look in his direction as he rinsed down the counters and the sink. "Of what?"

"The shop. The little carrots on top of the carrot cake. The berry tarts and the cactuar cupcakes. The cute chocobo face pies that I know I could never make myself bite into." Prompto's voice had started to rise with enthusiasm, and he coughed awkwardly. "Photography's what I _do_. I'm pretty much always carrying a camera. Mostly portraits and commercial work, like if you wanted ads or a menu or something. I could probably get really rich with artsy shots of Gladio doing his shirtless apron thing."

Ignis frowned. "He doesn't."

"Oh, yes he does, and it's magnificent." Prompto cackled. "Pictures of you, making all this stuff. Whipping up potatoes and subduing killer tomatoes." He paused, and Ignis could hear a faint tapping; fingers on camera case, he assumed. Prompto was always fidgeting with something. "Plus, you know, it's nice to see a queer owned-and-run business."

Ignis blinked reflexively, his shoulders straightening as his suspicious mind leaped to conclusions. "Excuse me," he said in Prompto's direction, shaking the water off his hands briskly. He didn't want his fingers to slip as he slowly throttled Gladio to death.

The clamor of voices led Ignis out past the counter to one of their eat-in tables by the front windows.

"Gladiolus," he said, as icily as he could. "Why does Prompto think this is a gay bakery?"

"More of a gay and bi bakery," Gladio corrected, voice slow and amused. "Maybe cause of all the pride decals on the windows, I dunno." Ignis glared. "Remember I promised I'd get you laid before your twenty-fifth birthday? I only have a year left, and it's not like you make an effort yourself. I had to try _something_."

"Wait wait wait," Prompto interrupted, sounding way too excited. "So Gladio's your wingman not just in tattoos but for real, and you two aren't partners in love and life?"

" _Business_ partners," Ignis managed to get out. "Until I _fire_ him."

Gladio snorted laughter and grabbed Ignis' arm, using it to haul himself to his feet and then wrap Ignis up in a half-hug, half-headlock. "You're so fucking adorable," he said, scritching Ignis' hair like he was a puppy. "I'm heading out. I need a drink." He let Ignis go with a couple hearty slaps to his back.

A chair scraped back as Noctis stood as well. "I'll come with you."

Gladio, still chuckling, didn't tell Noctis to fuck off, and as Ignis listened to their steps receding, the clatter of the bells as the door shut, he felt irritation fade into an odd and unexpected hope. He wanted Gladio to be happy, and he looked forward to teasing him for his stupid backfiring matchmaking plan. Those sort of schemes only really worked in the romance novels Gladio was always reading.

"An awkward silence fell," Prompto intoned, breaking the calm. "They like each other, right? I'm not imagining that? Can you picture them having sex?"

" _No_ ," Ignis said, as quellingly as he could. His mind's eye worked just fine, though, and suddenly that was all he could think of. "...I hate you."

Prompto crowed with laughter. "I'm lovable and you know it."

Ignis shook his head, but he didn't have the heart to drag Prompto. "You can take pictures now, if you like. I'm going to close up for the night." He thought it was early still, but what the hell. Lately their only customers at this late hour were Prompto and Noctis – the shop was in the business district, so the crowds mostly came from noon through dinnertime, unless there was a concert or a game on.

The clicking of the camera shutter was useful, Ignis found, as a way to track Prompto's movements around the shop while he wiped down the tables and swept the floor, closed the shutters and locked the front door, and shut the cash register down. The money was locked in the safe, and that just left the display case and the coffee machine.

He swallowed his pride and asked Prompto if he could figure out the coffee maker.

"Oh, sure," Prompto said, setting his camera down on a table. "There's a card taped to the wall explaining – oh. Sorry." Ignis waved his apology off, even if he couldn't help his sour expression. "Did I ever tell you how I met Noct?"

Ignis shook his head. He got out a box and started packing up the leftovers to be donated.

"He was hurt as a kid, and stayed in Tenebrae to recover. When he got strong enough to be moved to a hospital here, he ended up on the rehab ward where my mom works. She told me to sit with him after school and help him study. Mostly he beat me at all my games when she wasn't looking, and here we are, ten years later."

Ignis knew enough history to fill in acts of terrorism and assassination attempts; he usually tried to remind himself of that traumatic background whenever he found Noctis' personal inertia especially grating. "Does he still win?"

" _Yes_. And he always gloats, too." There was a series of familiar gurgles from somewhere within the coffee machine, and Prompto hummed with satisfaction. "I told you I'm adopted." Ignis nodded. "My dad was in the army. He found me in Niflheim and sent me on the first available transport east, me and a case of Mister Prompto noodles, which he says were the only thing I would eat. A bunch of trains and trucks later I got dropped off at my mom's place, and by then I was already answering to Prompto."

Well. That was also... historically interesting. "You said you were adopted as a baby. I suppose you don't remember?"

"Well. I've been told." Prompto was screwing something apart deftly, the pieces set aside in order on the countertop. "When the allies closed in, the MT factories were abandoned. Turned out the soldiers were grown in incubators until they could be turned into demons, and they all died of starvation, dad said. Except for this one runty survivor."

"That's horrific," Ignis said, trying not to picture what it must have been like.

Prompto made a small, hurt noise. "I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

"You misunderstand me," Ignis said sharply. " _You're_ not horrible. I don't care where you're from or how you were born. Or how you look, obviously. Do your eyes glow? Does the sun burn?"

" _Dude_ ," Prompto said, through a laugh that was too close to hysterical for Ignis' liking. "I might not be exactly human, but I'm not a demon." He paused. "I do get hellacious freckles, though."

Ignis shrugged. "Gladio said you were cute, and I trust him with most things. Just not with keeping his clothes on at work, apparently." 

"I'm totally cute," Prompto agreed. He sounded a little forced, his voice shaky, and Ignis wondered how many people he'd ever trusted with this secret. Not many, Ignis thought, and always with the fear that telling the wrong person could mean death or worse.

"You have dimples and big brown eyes," Ignis guessed. At least half the population had brown eyes and dark hair; he was playing it safe.

Prompto snorted. "You're on a roll. No dimples, and blue. What about you?"

Ignis set down the trays he was stacking and took his glasses off. He looked towards the sound of fidgeting with coffee machine parts, fighting the habit of keeping his face turned to hide the worst of the scarring. Gladio said it didn't look that bad, but he wasn't exactly impartial or unscarred himself. "They used to be green."

He heard Prompto crossing the space, the very deliberate heel-strikes conveying that Prompto wanted to be heard; so Ignis could stop him, if he didn't want Prompto to see. Ignis tightened his fingers around his glasses, repressing the urge to put them back on ( _hide behind them_ , Gladio would say), and then set them carefully on top of the display case. If Prompto wanted to know how bad it looked... well. Here he was.

"Hey," Prompto said, right up close, and his hand settled on Ignis' arm. Ignis did not allow himself to flinch; the touch was warm and grounding. "I'm just going to put this out there, now that I know you're single and apparently have a use-by date, so maybe – you think we could go out? Like on a date? Get dinner, go for a walk in the park, see a movie, take selfies with the Citadel like tourists, all that romantic stuff. Because... I definitely want that, if you want that. I like you a stupid amount. And I'm going to shut up now."

Ignis nearly said _no_ reflexively, out of sheer surprise and superstitious reflex – he didn't want to be afraid of change, but he knew about himself that he liked his routine perhaps more than most. Definitely more than Gladio, who humored him anyway. But Prompto was already part of his life. Imagining him _gone_ made his stomach knot. He wouldn't mind if Prompto's presence became permanent. That in itself was frightening.

He reached out to mirror Prompto's gesture, his fingers finding the bare skin of Promoto's arm (short sleeves?) and sliding up (no sleeves, and very nice arm definition). From his shoulder he reached up and found gel-stiffened hair, and from there the curve of Prompto's jaw. Logically, he knew he shouldn't just grab Prompto and kiss him. But he wanted to.

He had never been one for casual touching, but he realized now that aside from Gladio and Iris' hugs, his main form of human contact came from sparring at the gym, as if he'd be more likely to encounter a battle than intimacy or romance. He wondered briefly if Gladio had noticed – and just as quickly dismissed the thought. Friendship he could accept, but not pity.

Fortunately, Prompto took his hesitation for confusion, and helpfully tilted his head up to press his mouth – gently, sweetly – to Ignis'. He started to pull back, and Ignis didn't want that. He moved his hand to cup the back of Promto's head and just... let himself go.

Prompto hummed in encouragement as he deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Ignis like he wasn't ever planning on releasing him. Ignis couldn't recall the last time he'd been this aroused or this close to losing control. Somehow his jacket got unbuttoned and hands slipped under his shirt to map his skin; somehow Prompto ended up perched on the counter by the cash register, legs spread and Ignis between them, and they were still kissing.

Someone knocked on the wall, two raps in warning, and Ignis startled; Prompto's hands clenched, and he straightened to look over Ignis' shoulder. Ignis heard Gladio give a long low whistle, followed by, "Holy _shit_." 

"I swear I was planning on putting it back together," Prompto said. "Please don't kill me. I just, the steamed milk part, I've always wondered how that _worked_."

"If it _doesn't_ work now, I'm gonna make you buy a new one," Gladio said ominously. "And take the making out somewhere private. Anyone with the key can just walk right in here."

"We are already gone," Prompto said. "Give us a minute?"

Ignis suspected there was some kind of communication via eye contact going on, which grated, but he wasn't about to turn around and confront Gladio. He'd always been meticulous about his appearance, and he was even more so now that he couldn't check what others saw. Being caught half out of uniform with his hair mussed felt embarrassingly close to being naked.

But after a moment Gladio said, "We'll just run the leftovers down to the homeless shelter Noct swears he isn't running." ( _Hey_ , Noctis protested faintly from the kitchen.) He grabbed the boxes, gave Ignis a stinging slap on the shoulder, and stomped out, dragging a grumbling Noctis with him.

"I should get him flowers or something," Prompto said. He gave Ignis a ridiculously loud smack of a kiss before sliding down from the counter, a move which had them standing hip to hip (Prompto was taller than Gladio had led him to believe). "So, that was a _yes_ , right? I'm pretty sure it was a yes, but I just want to be clear."

"Yes," Ignis said, deciding not to bother with buttons. He slid his jacket off, and Prompto put an arm around his waist. "It was a yes."

"I'm grinning literally ear to ear right now," Prompto said. "Just so you know."

Ignis didn't need to be told; he could hear the smile in his voice, and feel it when Prompto stole another kiss.


End file.
